


Maquillage

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: F/M, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4721426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terra has a little favor to ask of Kefka. Of course he's thrilled to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maquillage

**Author's Note:**

> for maryxula on tumblr <3 happy birthday!

The classical recording spilled into every crevasse of his room and drowned out the footsteps crawling closer. Kefka hummed, tapping a finger along the table in time with the melody. His focus was upon the many reports requiring his attention. Boring, as always. He skimmed through most of it; the sooner he was done, the sooner he could-

“Kefka?”

His hand was inches from knocking over the inkwell thanks to his abrupt flailing. Kefka whipped around. “What?!”

He prepared himself to chew out yet another soldier for disturbing his precious time in his quarters, but the anger dissolved when he eyed the young woman hovering over him. It wasn’t often that Terra sought him out; she was forever busy with her own training and Kefka didn’t _dare_ intrude the fiery woman. Doing so could rouse unnecessary distress and in turn unhappiness. No. No no no _no_. Terra would never frown before Kefka. Not if he could do something about it.

Her bright eyes flicked to his table. “Am I interrupting you?”

“Are you... _what_?” Fluttering his eyes, he jerked his head back and forth until he erupted into nervous laughter. “Oh _this_?! Ha! This isn’t worthy enough to be deemed interruptible, my dear.” Grinning at her, Kefka shoved the entire contents of his desk - probably the inkwell, too, for all he cared - into the drawer to slam shut. “You should know by now that you’re _never_ interrupting me. Literally _impossible_.” Spinning in his seat to face her, Kefka inhaled while soaking her in. “Now... is there something I can do for you?”

She averted her gaze. “I... well, perhaps it’s a touch odd-”

“Of course not!” Odd was reserved for the random requests Cid made of him, let alone the nonsense Leo subjected him to. On the contrary, Terra was anything but odd.

Thus when her eyes returned to him, he held his breath.

“I’m to report to the front lines in a few hours,” she mentioned.

Funny, Kefka swore he glossed over details describing that in one of the reports. He nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ve... seen you prep before heading out. Your face is different each time.”

“My... what?” He raised an eyebrow. _The hell is that supposed to mean?!_

Terra nodded. “The colors and the shapes-”

It all clicked. “Ah! You mean my _cosmetics_!” Again Terra nodded. “And what about that?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have the time to... make _my_ face different, would you?”

Well, he did _now_.

Kefka led her to the back room where he kept an assortment of outfits and other items he once found a use for. Lying within a thick chest was his assortment of cosmetics, ranging in vivid colors. He lined up his favorite brushes and plucked out the creams and powders needed to achieve the aesthetic Terra yearned for. She spoke of how she wanted to be taken seriously while heading out with the troops and not to be mistaken as a clueless woman.

“My dearest Terra,” Kefka said after she washed and moisturized her face, “when I’m through with you, your name will be spoken with the highest praise.”

Hopefully then everyone would know that she was _his_ , regardless if Terra herself was still oblivious to his obsession.

Ridding himself of the thought, he sucked in air while dipping a sponge into foundation. The color was a shade lighter than Terra’s natural complexion, though served as the perfect base for what Kefka had in mind. He lined her fair eyebrows with a soft pencil to maintain their natural curve and subtle color. From there, he splashed a tint of red across her eyes, resembling more of a blush heating the creases and corners. She opened her eyes after the application of mascara and Kefka gasped quietly. From afar, he always wondered what color her eyes were - perhaps green or maybe blue? - and now that he witnessed them point blank, he still couldn’t decide on their hue.

Her cheeks were lightly powdered with blush; Kefka longed to keep her face pale, though the sight of her blushing, albeit artificially, forced him to bite back a grin. She giggled as the brush swept across her cheeks, claiming it tickled.

“This is _not_ a laughing matter,” Kefka lectured while shaking the brush in her direction.

“I’m sorry!” she said through her amusement and without an ounce of sincerity.

With the blush taken care of, there was only one section remaining - her lips. Kefka cracked open the small jar of lip color, the deep red almost matching her current outfit. He dipped the thin brush into the jar, a few droplets rolling off and back into the container. Terra waited, patient and obedient as ever. Swallowing hard, Kefka cupped his hand underneath her chin to position her face parallel to his. She never flinched.

“Hold still,” he whispered.

Then she poked her tongue out to moisten her lips and parted her mouth ajar. Kefka wondered if she felt the quiver racing through his body. Steadying himself, he brought the brush close to her lips.

“Kefka?”

It was a miracle he never placed the brush to her mouth or else the sudden jerk of his hand would have ruined her make-up. Releasing Terra, Kefka clutched his brush and spun around to glare at the newcomer in the room - one of Leo’s men, without a doubt - who was completely unprepared for what he walked into.

“General Leo has asked for you to look over these reports immediately,” the man continued, eyes on the parchments in his hands instead of Kefka. “He said it would be in both of your best interests to sign away on-”

 _Oh, like you understand what_ _’s in my best interest right now,_ he kept to himself, eyes twitching.

The soldier continued, eventually looking up to meet Kefka’s gaze. What he didn’t expect was a seething, hateful stare. Kefka clenched his jaw and growled through pursed lips. The tight hold on the brush resulted in the item’s destruction, promptly snapped in half.

“...um.” He looked to Terra, then back to Kefka. “I can just put this on your desk-”

“You know,” Kefka screamed out, rising from his seat, “it would be in _your_ best interest if you would learn the decency _to knock_ before marching on in here!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Excuses, excuses, _excuses_!” Kefka chucked the remains of the paintbrush at the man. “Get _out_! You are doing _nobody_ any favors, you insolent degenerate!”

Without another word, the man scurried off. Kefka made sure to slam the door shut this time, even if it meant muffling his beloved music. With an exasperated sigh, Kefka’s anger faded away as quickly as it boiled up. Setting his sights back onto Terra, though, made up for it all.

“Is everything alright?” she asked while tilting her head.

“Yes! Everything is _fine_! Don’t you worry.” Returning to his seat, he rummaged through his chest. “Now, where were we? Ah! Yes! Of course.” _Best for last_.

He retrieved another brush and coated it in the lip color before resuming his position with Terra. She sat up tall for Kefka as the brush glided over her lips. He never realized until now how full her plump pout was. No need to exaggerate any detail, unlike many of the maidens walking the halls of the Imperial fortress. Terra, as always, was nothing short of perfect and when he painted her lips of deep crimson, Kefka didn’t want to pull away.

But he also didn’t want to lean in and kiss her, fearing it would smudge the make-up and in turn flaw her beauty.

After finishing her face with powder, Kefka beamed. “And now you’re done! Go! See for yourself.”

Kefka gestured to the mirror on the other side of the room. Terra hopped off her seat to standing and skittered over to inspect her reflection. The tiny gasp she made left Kefka breathless, beady eyes peering over his shoulder while suspended on the moment. Maybe she loved it. Maybe she hated it. He would know shortly due to the abundance of flames on her behalf if she _did_ loathe it, though fire never coursed through him and the room.

“It’s lovely!” She turned to find Kefka. “Thank you.”

He released his breath. “But of course, my dear. Anything for you.”

She cocked her head, then returned to the mirror. “Hmmm... do you by any chance have something to tie my hair back?”

His heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“My hair.” She gestured to the wild mess of thick curls framing her face. “I don’t want it to ruin this. I wasn’t sure if you had-”

“I have _just_ the thing!”

Or he thought he did. Kefka wasn’t going to say _no_ to his sweet, precious doll asking for help. He tore through the closet, chucking fabric in every direction until he found a small sash made of silk with golden embroidery.

“This should do the trick,” he said.

He pulled her hair back into a high ponytail and fastened it with the sash. A few strands fell over the front of her face, though nothing worth concern. Besides, with the way Terra beamed at her image, Kefka couldn’t help but be just as pleased.

“I love it,” she said.

Before long, Terra would be heading off to do battle. Her fires would be as feared as the Empire’s Magitek devices, if not more. Whoever made up the pathetic rumors that she was but a useless woman deserved to be burnt to a crisp. Before them both in the mirror stood a fearless, elite warrior - an example of Imperial quality. There were ancient tales depicting such bold women; Terra could easily inspire new stories.

And when she returned from bloodshed and mayhem, Kefka imagined she’d return the sash to him. He already planned on telling her to keep it, though the selfish half of him desired to snatch it back, if only to run off and hide in his quarters so he could nuzzle into the material and savor both her lingering scent and warmth.

But for now, he had this moment with her, as rare as it was. He smirked while eyeing her reflection, drinking in every second.

“So do I,” he purred.


End file.
